Harper Lin - Patisserie 07 - Madeleine Murder (2 page)

It was almost five thirty when the couple came. Ben lived upstairs in a
chambre de bonne
, an old servant’s room, which was on the top floor of the Haussmanian building. Berenice must’ve been hanging out with him in his tiny apartment because they both came down through the kitchen door, which opened to the old servants’ staircase leading up to the top floor. Clémence led them straight out to the balcony. It usually rained all year round in Paris, and they had to grab any sunshine they could. Even in August, the city rarely got humid, but that afternoon was hotter than usual. Since the building didn’t have air conditioning, Clémence opened many of her windows to let the air flow in.

Berenice brought two strawberry white-wine coolers, which were good for the late summer afternoon. Arthur helped her put the bottles in an ice bucket, and they brought out wine glasses to the balcony. 

Berenice also brought some macarons, rejects from her shift as a baker at Damour. She smelled like the kitchen, full of sweets and cinnamon. It was how Clémence smelled whenever she got off a shift at Damour. She’d been immune to the smell herself until she started dating Arthur, who always made comments about it. He would bite her neck and tell her that she was sweet enough to eat. 

“Oh Berenice,” Clémence sighed in jest when Berenice opened the Tupperware of pastel treats. “You just have to tempt me with macarons when I haven’t even gone back to work yet.” 

“You don’t
have
to eat them.” Berenice grinned. “They’re for everybody.” 

The box contained Damour’s pistachio, raspberry, and chocolate macarons. While they tasted the same as regular Damour macarons, they were deformed in some way, whether cracked at the shell or shaped funny. Damour didn’t sell any macarons that looked or tasted less than perfect. Still, the macarons looked delicious, however misshapen. Clémence couldn’t resist for long.

“Oh, give me one.” She reached for a chocolate one and quickly bit into it. 

The boys chuckled. 

“You’re an addict,” Arthur said. “I bet you can’t last a week without eating a macaron or a
pain au chocolat
.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that,” Clémence replied, licking her fingers. “I have no choice but to eat plenty of sweets because I’m in the kitchen five or six days a week.”

“You didn’t have that excuse when we were on vacation.” He turned to the couple. “Clémence was still going into different patisseries and buying all kinds of desserts.” 

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to try new things when you’re on vacation. Plus, it’s research.” 

“Clémence ate a lot of Dutch waffles,” Arthur said.

“They have pretty good ice cream and pies too,” Clémence said brightly. “But we also did plenty of biking, so I think I actually lost weight.” 

“What else did you guys do?” Ben asked. 

“My sister Marianne joined us when we were in Normandy for a few days,” Clémence said. “She was pretty happy to get a few days away from her kids. We spent some time at the beach. My brother Henri and his family didn’t live far, so we all went to visit him for the day too.” 

“So I finally met her siblings,” Arthur said. 

“I wish they’d spend more time in Paris,” Clémence added, “but they’re so busy.” 

“Well, I don’t think Henri likes Paris very much.”  

“Right, he always goes on these rants about how Paris is crowded, dirty, and full of tourists. He’s just not a city guy.”

“Did you guys end up going on vacation?” Arthur asked Ben and Berenice. 

“I wouldn’t call going back to London a vacation,” Ben, who was English, said. “But yeah, Berenice spent a few days there. My mom gave her an astrology reading.” 

Ben’s mother was a well-known astrologer who often did readings for celebrities.

“No way!” Clémence exclaimed. “Was it accurate?” 

“Startlingly so,” Berenice said. “She also made some predictions. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“She won’t tell me anything,” Ben said. “My mom won’t either, staying loyal to client confidentiality.” 

“I can’t wait.” Clémence grinned at Berenice mischievously. She wondered if Ben’s mom had said anything about their relationship and whether she and Ben would get married or not. 

“Hey, did you guys hear about the actress who drowned in the Seine?” Ben asked. “I read about it on my Twitter feed today.” 

“We did,” Clémence said. “They just confirmed it was Nicole Blake this morning. How sad.” 

“We were actually driving past the scene when they found her body in the Seine,” Arthur said.

“It’s unfortunate,” Clémence added. “I loved her in
Peach State
.”

Peach State
was one of Clémence’s favorite movies. It  was about a small-town restaurant owner and baker played by Nicole Blake. It was a sweet romantic comedy where Nicole’s character played matchmaker to many of her regular customers before finding love with the local veterinarian. 

“That was a cute movie,” Berenice said. “Did they say why she drowned?” 

“I don’t know,” Clémence said. “The papers didn’t say. Was she on a boat? I have no idea.” 

“There’s some speculation that Nicole Blake had some sort of drinking problem,” Ben said. 

“She
is
rumored to be somewhat of a diva,” Berenice said. “Especially since she got her Oscar nod. I’ve been reading stories in the papers about her not getting along with her co-stars on the movie she’s filming here.” 

“Did the film wrap already?” Arthur asked. 

“No,” Berenice said. “They were halfway done. There were all these filming delays. I heard that they have to give more scenes to Sarah Briar now that Nicole’s not able to shoot the rest.” 

“Who’s Sarah Briar playing?” Clémence asked. She hadn’t been keeping up with the news in Paris since she’d been away.

“Nicole Blake’s older sister. The film’s about two American sisters who come to Paris after they’ve inherited an apartment in Montmartre and a valuable painting. Nicole had a bigger role and a meatier storyline, but now I heard they’re forced to do without some of Nicole’s scenes, and they’re writing in more scenes for Sarah’s character.” 

“That sounds pretty suspect, doesn’t it?” Clémence said.

“What? You think Sarah Briar killed Nicole Blake?” Ben asked.

“I don’t know,” Clémence said. “But I’d consider that angle.”

“That is, if Nicole was even killed,” Berenice said.

“True,” Clémence agreed.

“Why don’t you snoop around on set and find out,” Arthur suggested wryly.  

Clémence shook her head. “No way. No more murder cases. If it’s even a murder. It could be an accident, you know. This incident has nothing to do with me, or Damour, so I’m just going to let the police handle it this time.” 

“Really?” Berenice said. “You’re not the least bit curious about what happened?” 

“Curious, sure, but enough to spend time with that inspector?” 

“I thought you loved getting on his nerves,” Arthur said. 

“That’s always fun, but if I had an option to not have to deal with him or any more dead bodies, I’d take it.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Berenice said. “I think you like solving cases, and you’re good at it. And I think you have an in on the film set. Sophie Seydoux is making a small cameo as the girlfriend of one of the character’s love interests.” 

“Really?” Clémence asked.

“Yup. I’m sure she could get you on set and introduce you to the cast and crew if you’d ask her.”

Once again, Clémence shook her head resolutely. She downed her glass of white wine cooler. 

“Nope. I will not get involved this time. Definitely not.” 

After two weeks of being away from the Damour kitchen at 4 Place du Trocadéro, Clémence felt happy to be back. After greeting the staff, including the busy chefs and bakers in the kitchen, she settled in at the work table that she shared with Berenice and her brother Sebastien. Sebastien was Damour’s head baker, whom she often worked with to invent new dessert flavors. 

He was working on a new madeleine flavor, Raspberry and Rose, when Clémence came in. Together, they worked on three separate batches to improve on the recipe until they decided that the third one was perfect.

Celine, one of the hostesses in the salon de thé, came in to chat during her break as they were indulging themselves with the new madeleines.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Celine took a warm madeleine and bit into it. “
C’est très très bon
.”

“
Merci.
” Sebastien looked a little too proud. “We’ve outdone ourselves. It’s not too fruity, with just a hint of the rose.” 

“Hey, I forgot to tell you,” Celine said to Clémence. “When you were away, some of the stars from that Hollywood film,
The Art of Amour
, were here. Nicole Blake was here all the time, and so was Sarah Briar, although never together. They were shooting a lot in the neighborhood for about a week and a half. It was so exciting! I got to watch Zach film a kissing scene with Nicole outside La Coquette. Well, you know, it was before Nicole Blake died.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Berenice said. “The patisserie cashiers told me that a couple of crew members would come in and buy massive amounts of desserts and pastries to go for the set.”

“If I’d known,” Clémence said, “I would’ve offered to give them a special discount on catering on the set.” 

“Well, they’ve already moved on to shooting scenes in other parts of the city,” Celine said. “I think they’re in Montmartre now. Too bad. Zach Brant is perfection.”

“Is that guy ever fully clothed in a movie?” Sebastien quipped.

“
Pourquoi?
” Clémence asked. “Are you only interested when he’s not?” 

Sebastien snorted. “He played a gigolo in his last movie and walked around naked in ninety percent of the scenes. He’s not big because he can act, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh please,” Berenice said. “As if women aren’t objectified in movies all the time. It’s refreshing for the girls to get some visual action for a change.” 

“Hey, Zach Brant just broke up with that mousy actress,” Celine said. “He’s single again.” 

“Are you going to stalk him until he notices you?” Clémence smiled.

“Oh, he already has. After one of his takes, we made eye contact. Like, full-on eye contact for at least three seconds. It was intense. But they kept asking him to redo the takes, and after he wrapped, the bodyguards ushered the crowd away, and the actors disappeared into a van. I saw him looking around before he ducked into the van, so he might’ve been looking for me.”

Sebastien laughed. “Eye contact? How far away were you? He was probably just staring into space and trying to remember his lines.” 

“Whatever,” Celine said. “I’m telling you, we had a moment. When I’m walking down the red carpet, arm linked with his, we’ll see who has the last laugh.” 

She turned on her heels and walked out the door in a huff. 

Sebastien shook his head. “Delusional as always.”

“She’s a dreamer,” Clémence said. “I kind of admire that.” 

“Zach Brant
is
pretty hot,” Berenice said. “You could wash laundry on those abs.”

“Ugh.” Sebastien put in his earbuds and turned on his iPod. “After you finish discussing the rest of his body parts, let me know.” 

Clémence and Berenice laughed. Sebastien could be so uptight sometimes. 

The
salon de thé
was extra busy during lunch since the Parisians were starting to return from vacation. All the tables inside and on the terrace were full. Customers needed reservations to get a table. Clémence helped Celine and another hostess deal with the lineup. They had to turn away a lot of people, mainly tourists who didn’t realize they needed to call ahead to get a table. They were encouraged to go to the patisserie, where they could at least take away some famous Damour treats to go so their trip wasn’t a total loss.

They were still dealing with the lunch rush when a young woman wearing black-rimmed glasses cut the line to talk to one of the hostesses.

“Do you have a reservation?” Celine asked her.

“
Non, desolée
,” the young woman said in an American accent. “I’m not here to eat. Is it possible to see Clémence? Clémence Damour?”